Texas Keeper Cider Weizen

Lets take a moment to appreciate good beer.

Mmmmmmm.... beer...

OK.  Did you do it?  You're a horrible bastard if you didn't, you know.  Beer, good beer more so, has done so much for us, you and me personally, that it deserves a moment of appreciation.  So, if you skipped it, take that moment now.

In the last few weeks, I have dunked my head in the finest of the world's beer rivers (pictured below).

The Fifty-Fifty Eclipse Imperial Stout, was,without a doubt, one of the finest beers ever aged in a whisky barrel and bottled for my personal joy.  I won't say much about it, except that it redefined what a goddam great beer is.  (Not available in Texas).

The Fifty-Fifty was so good, in fact, that I was tempted to try something... different for this week's beer blog.  A cider.  

I was conflicted at first: is it really a beer, does it have a place in this blog, am I being wild and brash, what are these feelings I'm feeling, do I dare do all that may become a man?  After a period of reflection and meditation, I decided to go ahead and try the cider.  What is the worst that can happen?

Texas Keeper Cider Weizen, cider made with fancy beer yeasts.  It is a dry cider, with an interesting idea behind it.  It is also horse-piss swill, and I don't even think that horse was a diabetic.  Sure I choked it down, but only to decide how much I hated it.  I hated it very many and super much.  

I have enjoyed many ciders.  Most of them were acceptable, some were even good, but there are always a few bad apples.  

"I'm funny as hell and deserve this award for Best Pun Of The Century."

~J. "Bad Apples" Dodson

9-2015

Pun Awards Dinner acceptance speech

This cider sucks, but mainly because it is a very dry cider.  I accept that some weirdos like dry ciders.  That's fine.  As long as they don't try to force their beliefs on me (I'm looking at you, IPA people).  If that's your bag, then by all means, chug away.  For me, I will continue to look for a decent and respectable beverage, something more in line with my system of beliefs.  I'm a decent person.  That's how I roll.

I hope that, if you take something away from this blog, you make an effort to drink good beverages instead of bad ones, and where bad ones enter your life, you have the good sense to recognize and shun them.  In that spirit, I invite you to join with me in a pledge:

"I, (state your name), pledge to drink mostly exclusively good booze, and will cast my vote

for the Author of this blog to win the Best Pun Of The Century Award, just as soon as I can."

Thank you

Drinking Night with the Fella(s) 4-23-15 or The Ayenbite of Inwyt

I have regrets.

The "ayenbite of inwyt", or the "prick of one's conscious" to us normals,  let's just call it, "regret."  Or, maybe we should call it The Donk.  I learned of The Donk today and am filled with ayenbite, probably of inwyt and sausage.  But, I'm getting ahead of myself.  On Thursdays, I have drinks with the fellas, and I indulge.  I occasionally over-indulge.  Tonight, for this mid week interlude, I will tell you all about it.

After work on Thursdays, I sit through the happiest traffic in the world because I am going to meet the fellas for a beers.  Generally speaking, I get to look forward to 45 minutes to an hour of traffic, and it is worth it.  I actually look forward to it.  Not only am I out of work for the day, but I'm on my way to drinking night.  This week, I only met up with Diego, because Omar was sick, and Thomas has "responsibilities" (like a chump).  We met at Mr. Tramps.

Sometimes Mr. Tramps has trivia night, so we don't go there on those nights.  We also don't eat there anymore, having learned our lesson in our bathrooms late at night.  When I arrived tonight, Diego was already one beer ahead of me, the sneaky bastard.  So I sat down and ordered one of what he was having, a nitous infused double chocolate stout, and a side of onion rings.  I was hungry enough to risk the food, which was a mistake.  The beer was delightful, full bodied, frothy, rich, malty, and everything it should be.  A fine post-work starter beer.  The onion rings... well, I knew better, and I now I felt that specter, that ghoul, that ayenbite of inwyt (to stretch a definition way too far).  A plate of greasy, crunchy circles both delicious and revolting.  We ate them with gusto and remorse (and some kind of dipping sauce).  That was the first regret of the evening.  Then we left to get bar-b-que.

I had never been to Slab BBQ, but I saw they had an all-day special on "domestic" beer and sliders.  When we got there I learned two very important things: 1, don't let Diego pick our your dinner, and 2, I seem to have been very confused about what the word "domestic" means.

First, let us talk about The Donk.  This is what Diego decided I should eat for dinner, and I, like a lemming, decided to go with it.  Here is a link to the menu for Slab BBQ (http://realdopebbq.com/menu/).  Go, and see the description of The Donk.  Begin to understand my pain.  I ate that.  All of that.  I am not proud.  The cute bar tender egged me on maliciously.  Diego was remorseless.  Even now, I have gut-full of hate for him and another regret for the evening.  Later, I will begin to partially rid myself of this hate, most likely starting at 3 in the morning.  Did I mention the cute bar tender?  She was cute.

Secondly, the word "domestic" seems to mean "shitty".  That's just an FYI, at a bar domestic = shitty, and those rates definitely don't apply to any beer you would ever want to drink.

I skipped the "domestic" beer and had a cider.  According to my note, I had a TV Honkey Cider.  Perhaps I wrote that down poorly.  It was a tasty cider all the same.  I wonder what it was really called.  Unlike the cider brewing in my kitchen, this one was sweet and crisp.  Sadly, it had to fight for attention with The Donk.  The Goddam Donk.  Despite (or because of) the adorable chiding of the cute bartender, I finished The Donk (pictured below).

Who's hungry?  Not friggin' me.  I had regrets, so, I had a Robert Honey Pils.  That's a different kind of beer.  I drank it.  It wasn't half bad.  To be honest, I don't remember it.  I think I was still reeling from The Donk when I drank it, but I have no negative feelings about the beer so I couldn't have been too bad.  

We drank, we solved many of the world's problems, there were some pop culture references, I think I probably said something embarrassing or awkward.  I love drinking night with the guy(s).

And then I got home OK.